Fever
by MaybeBaby1280
Summary: Suddenly, the doctor has become the patient.  Pure fluff.


"House, it's me. I'm not coming in today. I feel like crap." It took all of Cameron's strength just to hold her cell phone up to her ear as she lay in bed shivering beneath a mountain of blankets.

"Why?" House popped a bagel in the toaster before walking back into the living room. Balancing his phone in the crook of his shoulder, he sat down and stretched his pajama-clad legs across the entire length of the couch.

"I just told you. I feel like crap."

"No, I mean why do you feel like crap? Specifically."

"Does it matter why?"

"I'm a diagnostician. It's in my nature to diagnose."

Cameron sighed. "Fever, chills, sore throat, body aches, cough, you name it."

"Wow, sounds like you're feeling really crappy. You should stay home today."

"Going back to sleep now, House," Cameron said in a thin, weak voice. "Bye." And with that, she hung up.

"Too sick to get exasperated with me?" House mumbled worriedly to himself. He pinched his bottom lip between his index finger and thumb, lost deep in thought as he formulated a plan.

After hanging up with House, Cameron drifted in and out of sleep. Every time she thought she was finally starting to warm up, the chills would set in again and make her entire body shiver violently. She winced at the pain in every muscle as she wrapped the blankets tighter around her shoulders. She knew she needed acetaminophen for her fever, but couldn't bear the thought of getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom.

Finally falling into a deep sleep out of sheer exhaustion, Cameron experienced vivid dreams brought on by a febrile delirium. She felt, rather than saw, snippets of scenes: cool hands on her searing hot forehead; a deep, soothing voice whispering incoherent words; a gloriously warm heaviness being placed on top of her aching body; gentle fingers slipping bitter pills into her mouth and raising a glass of water to her lips. An overwhelming sense of comfort and security settled over her, and she was able to sleep peacefully.

Cameron gradually woke up as the heat from the electric blanket (_How did that get there?_) became more and more stifling. She kicked the covers off and looked out the window. The sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon; she had slept until well after lunchtime. As she rolled over in bed, grateful that her body aches had dissipated, something caught her eye on the nightstand. Her stack of nighttime reading material had been removed, and in its place was a veritable pharmacy. An array of pill bottles, cough syrups, and nasal sprays was neatly arranged on the nightstand. To each one was taped a prescription, written in House's handwriting, each one prescribed to a patient by the name of "Dr. McGermy" and signed by "Dr. Stud".

Cameron smiled, not caring how House had gotten into her locked apartment, and reached for the first bottle. The script read:

"_Ibu 200mg; 2-4 tabs po q8 prn for fever; alternate with acetaminophen"_

Feeling her forehead with her own fingers, Cameron decided that she probably still had a low-grade fever, so she shook 2 brown tablets into the palm of her hand before browsing through the rest of the selection. She rolled her eyes when she realized that House must have cleared out the entire cough and cold aisle of the drug store. The selection was endless.

"_Guaifenesin 600mg ER; 1 tab po bid prn for excess snot"_

"_Saline nasal spray; 2 sprays in each nostril prn for insufficient snot"_

"_Pseudoephedrine 30mg; 2 tabs po qid prn for stuffy snot"_

"_Diphenhydramine 25mg; 1 cap po q6 prn for runny snot"_

And so on…

Cameron giggled at House's extensive knowledge of the many manifestations of snot. Sorting through the rest of the pills, syrups, lozenges, and sprays, she added one Mucinex tablet to the ibuprofen already in her hand and searched for something with which to swallow them. Unlike House, she was not practiced in the art of dry-swallowing pills. At the back of the nightstand stood a water bottle with a script attached to it that read, "Push fluids!" in bold letters. She downed the meds in one gulp and then gingerly rose from the bed and shuffled down the hallway.

House was sitting on her couch, watching a soap opera and eating Cheerios right out of the box. He muted the tv when Cameron flopped down on the couch, her head resting on the seat next to his leg and her feet dangling over the side. Angling his body towards her, he took in her disheveled appearance. Her pajamas were damp with sweat, her hair was plastered to her forehead in the front and sticking straight up in the back, and she had dark circles under her eyes. He thought she still looked beautiful.

"You look like shit."

"You try fighting off a fever of 104 and see how you feel." She lifted her head off the couch an inch or two and looked up at him just long enough to catch him grinning at her.

"Touché. So did you follow doctor's orders and take your medicine?"

Cameron simply nodded and closed her eyes.

"Good girl." House tentatively reached out his hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. When she didn't flinch at his touch, he began stroking her hair and gently massaging her scalp. She sighed contentedly and scooted the tiniest bit closer to him.

"Come here," he whispered. Helping her sit up, House pulled her into his arms and tucked her head underneath his chin. Cameron's body relaxed completely in his embrace as she nuzzled her nose into his chest.

"House?" she said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He replied by pressing his lips gently to her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss. They sat there in silence, House's fingers stroking languidly up and down her arm, until eventually Cameron's stomach growled.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I made you chicken soup."

"You _made_ me chicken soup?" Cameron asked, lifting her head to look at him suspiciously. "I didn't know you knew how to make soup."

"I don't," he said with a small shrug. "But I figure you can't go wrong with _The Joy of Cooking_ as your guide. What do you say?"

Cameron thought about it for a few seconds and then finally nodded. "I'm already sick, so I guess I've got nothing to lose," she said with a smirk. "I'm game."

"Just for that, I'm slipping a double dose of NyQuil into your soup," he said with a wink as he rose from the couch and placed a throw pillow under her head before going to the kitchen.


End file.
